A Bad Ending
by juliannailuj
Summary: Rewrite: Harry Dursley is awoken early on his 25th birthday by a loud noise and an unfriendly voice.
1. Prologue

1Warning: Slash HPSS

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me : ((

**Prologue**

_Nothing like a good midnight mystery, _Harry mused, stumbling quietly through his cramped kitchen. The cold linoleum floor made him shiver even worse as he longed for the bed he had just vacated. A loud crashing sound (which Harry strongly suspected had been the cat) had awoken him from an already restless sleep. _Now here I am_ he mused, _Playing the detective again. What am I, ten?_

Since Harry had moved into the apartment two weeks before, he often awoke in the night to a

booming sound much like the one that had intruded that night. He presumed it was just his pet cat getting into mischief, but could never find evidence of such.

While he searched around for James, Harry's wrist watch made the daily tone to signal the beginning of a new day. He glanced at it hastily, but stopped when he noticed the date: July 31st. It was Harry's twenty-fifth birthday.

He felt a peculiar sensation in his stomach, which startled him. It was not uncommon for him to forget, or completely miss, his birthday. Harry's parents had died in a bad car accident when he was barely a year old, and he had been raised by his aunt and uncle. They never allowed him to properly celebrate his birthday, but instead found it convenient to throw a pair of socks at him and allow him to fetch the paper. In spite of all this, Harry felt kind of uneasy about forgetting the day.

He was contemplating all of this when at last his cat quest was successful. He lugged the cat, named for his late father, back into his room and leaped into his cooled bed. The sound of James' purring was lulling him to sleep when another bout of commotion riled him. Harry's heart leapt to his throat when he heard coughing, and a ragged voice mumbling profanities.

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, as still as he could manage, as a slim figure entered his bedroom. An irritated voice filled the room.

"Potter, could you possibly manage a flat with a fireplace next time?"

A/N: Yes...short. I know. It works though.


	2. Chapter One The Stranger

Chapter One - The Stranger

Harry stayed perfectly still in his bed, save for his eyes which followed the stranger as he inspected the trinkets splayed across the dresser. He watched the stranger's creased hands run gently across a frame that was lying face down. Harry cringed a little when he thought of the smiling face that sat in the frame. It had been nearly two weeks since he tipped it over, but the image would forever be engraved in his mind.

Harry and Hermione were a couple. They met in University and had a few things in common. He thought that they were in love; she seemed content with the relationship. Then he started to notice the way that she gazed longingly out the window when they took the train, and how hard she cried during the movies they used to see on Saturdays.

"Don't worry about me Harry." She always managed to smile through her tears, "I shouldn't get into it so much."

No matter how much Harry questioned, she never really elaborated on the feeling. _S'pose I know now_, Harry thought bitterly. On the evening of their three year anniversary, she confronted him as he walked in the door. Turned out all he ever was to her was a good fuck. Of course Hermione was too polite to say it outright, but Harry knew the truth. He had loved her, really loved her, and all along she was only using him.

James crawled slowly onto Harry's lap, returning his thoughts to the situation at hand. He refocused his eyes on the stranger and observed the man once more. As he took into account the dark hair and cold eyes, Harry realized that he was no longer afraid of the figure that stood before him. He gathered up a bit of courage, and spoke.

"Excuse me, but would you mind introducing yourself? Or would that be too polite?"

The man's hand, still stroking the frame, stilled. It then ran down the front of the dresser, pausing to finger each knob.

"I see you have your father's famous tongue." He quipped, letting the hand drop to his side. "My name is Severus Snape. Mind giving me the grand tour, Potter?"

"Why do you keep calling me that? You have obviously got the wrong guy."

Severus smirked.

"Why do you keep answering to it?" He turned and jerked open the closet door. He pulled out a worn suitcase and tossed it on the bed next to Harry, who had lost his stamina and was sitting quietly. Severus exhaled suddenly, throwing off Harry's stance.

"Who is this person we once worshiped? You are nothing unusual, and certainly not brave." Severus said portraying a small amount of frustration that Harry could tell was not usually so detectable. He looked into the man's steely eyes.

"I am not afraid of you."

"I know."

Harry smiled a bit at the unspoken agreement between the two of them.

"There's a sofa in the den that you can sleep on. We'll talk in the morning."

It was a sleepy Saturday morning, and Harry awoke at precisely eight, a habit he had picked up in his childhood. He lounged in bed for a while, enjoying the mid-morning sun that poured through the windows before he remembered the guest snoozing in his living room. The happy feeling in his stomach was replaced by a bit of dread and fear at having to confront the stranger. Harry had dove into an odd situation without clearly thinking about it.

He crept out of bed, contemplating his tactic. He could either make enough noise to wake the man up, or stealthily go about his morning routine. Luckily, when he entered the room, Severus Snape was sitting upright on the couch, and the television was on. He was watching the morning news with a nonchalant look on his face as he stirred a cup of coffee.

"Morning." Harry offered to the man, not knowing if his presence had been noticed.

Severus simply nodded in reply and continued stirring.

Harry looked around the kitchen, unsure of his next move. He didn't really want to leap right into business, so he offered the stranger breakfast.

"If I were hungry, I would find something myself" The reply was stern. "Don't beat around the bush, Potter. If you have a question, ask it."

Harry stared. Never had he been in such a situation, or dealt with such a person.

"Allright...Well, who are you? What are you doing in my den? And who is this 'Potter' and why do keep calling me by his name?"

Serverus switched off the television, carefully as if the silence would disturb something. He continued stirring the coffee, which sat on a coaster, Harry noticed, though he hadn't seen one around in years.

"As I have already introduced myself, I see it unnecessary to repeat my name. The reasons I am here shall become clear soon enough, and I call you 'Potter' because it happens to be your name, though it seems you were unaware."

"My name is Harry Dursley. I fail to see the resemblance."

"You were raised as a Dursley, but you were born a Potter."

"I have bloody well seen my birth certificate, I think I would know my own name!" Harry's voice rose with his impatience and distrust toward the stranger.

"It must have been a fake. Those people, your aunt and uncle, went to great extremes to be sure we would never find you"

"What do you mean by 'we'? Who has been looking for me, and why?"

"You're just like your father. Always demanding answers like everyone should cater to your every need." Harry sensed the bitterness in Severus' voice and (not for the last one) wondered about the man's past.

"You knew my father?"

"We went to school together, yes. He and your mother were a year ahead of me. He was an idiot and got her pregnant with you when they were only sixteen."

"My father was not an idiot." Harry snarled through his teeth, feeling the familiar sensation of anger ripping through him.

Severus watched as a photograph of Harry with some friends trembled in its place on top of the television. Harry's untrained magic drifted through the room like a cool breeze.

"You didn't know him like I did." Severus said softly as the spoon in his hand made another clockwise rotation. "And you never will."


	3. Unavoidable

Chapter Three – Unavoidable

Harry and Severus avoided each other for the remainder of the day. Though Harry had retained some of the habits and skills from his long years of childhood, he couldn't bear to waste his birthday (however unimportant) milling around his room. Instead of abiding by his better judgment (reclaiming his home and tossing the stranger to the streets) Harry quietly excused himself from the flat and headed for the nearby park.

After years of being shut up inside Harry had developed a sort of claustrophobia. He spent his free time outside and even got a job in a petting zoo. However, no matter how many hours he spent outside, he spent an equal amount inside; Harry Dursley would not step foot outside under a night sky. No matter how many stars shined brightly and beckoned to him, Harry would just snap his blinds closed and pool his dignity on the sofa with James.

The day of his twenty-fifth birthday, however, was full of light. White-grey clouds drifted near the sun as its rays reached down to kiss small faces and parked cars and light breeze ruffled his hair as it passed.

A passerby may or may not have noticed Harry's presence. If the case was so, they may have noticed how each step he took was deliberate, but not cautious. He may have been amused by the way Harry's expression was one of confidence yet he looked uneasy in a way, while she may have noticed how his clothes were thrown on hastily and wrinkled in all the right places. Anyone who saw Harry would have perceived him not as a person, but a character. They would wonder not of his life, but of his story. They would have asked for the introduction, the beginning of his life at age twenty-five. To a passerby, Harry would not have existed seconds before. Any stranger could fantasize that he was created just for them, that he had no background. He just began.

To a certain stranger by the name of Severus Snape, Harry began in the early hours of July 31st. Harry's first breath was taken through the fur of a purring tabby cat, his first words laced with sarcasm, his first mistake confusion.

Severus Snape sat alone in Harry Dursley's flat. Harry had slipped out the front door an hour before, leaving no explanation. The clock on the mantle read 9:22 AM, though somehow Severus knew this without an upward glance. He sat with his chilled coffee, stirring once in unison with every tick of the clock. His eyes began to glaze over, and his stirring slowed, disrupting the harmony. Since his first encounter with Harry, which was approximately eight hours and twenty minutes before, he had found himself in a strange way. Severus was a man of order, someone who took control of his own life. He never waited around for things to happen, and certainly never let his emotions take over. Since his first encounter with Harry though, Severus had been overcome by a strange feeling of melancholy. For eight hours and twenty minutes Severus had sat on the sofa and stirred his coffee. For eight hours and twenty minutes he had concentrated on synchronizing each motion with the sharp tick of a second passing, and on the twenty-first minute his hand abruptly stopped. His fingers gently uncurled, releasing the spoon. The shrill cry of the utensil colliding with ceramic was muffled by just one more second. Severus let his tired body slump against the back of the sofa as his eyes slid shut.

The world that Severus entered when he dreamt was not something that he eagerly shared. In fact, Severus avoided dream conversations all together. It had been nearly twenty-four years since he had last awoken with more than a few loose ends and wispy voices encircling his sleeping head.

As he rested his aging body against Harry's sofa, Severus felt a slight tug, as if his body was folding into itself. This sensation was nearly welcome; at least much more than it would have been twenty-four years prior.

It's funny how the mind forgets the horrors of the past.

Severus had never experienced the common falling dream. Because of this, he was surprised that when his head cleared and REM began only to find himself shooting feet first down a very dark tunnel, much like Alice's rabbit hole.

The falling soon lost it's novelty, and Severus became bored. A dream had never before been so uneventful. As soon as he started searching his pockets for his wand, he hit the ground hard. As he stood, he began rummaging through his pockets. Instead of his wand, he found some spare change and what he recognized as a muggle mobile telephone. He opened the phone and cringed as its light hit his dilated pupils. When he grew accustomed to the light, he glanced around a little. The phone only illuminated a short distance and revealed nothing. Severus then gave himself the once over, checking for injuries, and noticed some odd changes. He seemed a little bit shorter, and softer, but he couldn't be sure. He reached up to rub his left eye but found a barricade. Severus removed the glasses impatiently, only to immediately put them back into their place. Without the lenses even the impermeable darkness swam.

Frustrated, Severus began to dig through his pockets again, this time coming up with a worn leather wallet. He flipped it open to see Harry, half smiling back at him. Eyes wide, Severus slammed the wallet closed. _All right then,_ _what's next?_

At this moment there was a slight creaking noise behind him. It was a sound one might hear late at night, lying in bed with a restless heart wondering if there was ever any noise at all.

When Severus turned the noise turned with him, always waiting behind in the darkness.

Severus could hear his racing heart slow and the whisper of silence brush his cheek. A cold draft teasingly tapped his nose. He dropped Harry's cell phone and slowly sunk to the ground beside it.

Slowly, the silence was broken. A warm but lonely wind swept through the darkness, carrying on it a lucid voice, softly half singing a lullaby from someone's past.

Severus slowly opened his tired eyes. His borrowed eyes met a strikingly similar pair, with a warm smile familiar from Severus' boyhood. He studied the face for a moment before he was able to put a name to it. He could not remember Lily's last name, but could clearly remember his years lusting after her throughout his teenaged life. He hadn't seen her since their graduation from Hogwarts in 1978, but she hadn't seemed to age much at all.

She sang a few more lyrics from her song before resuming her gentle gaze. It was then that Severus realized that she wouldn't recognize him for who he really was. He opened his mouth to explain, but something in her eyes reassured him.

Lily let out a little sigh and let her gaze wander before speaking.

"Severus Snape. How I've dreamed of this day."

Severus' face contorted into one of confusion, causing her to giggle.

"You were always such a know it all in school, don't tell me you hadn't expected this.

"Do you even know what you're doing here?"

Severus' eyes dropped to the floor as he solemnly shook his head. He had stealth fully avoided Harry's questioning on the matter, but it was useless to try and fool his mother.

Lily shook her head and clicked her tongue in mock sympathy.

"Ah, the infamous snake is finally getting a taste of his own medicine, I see."

Severus looked up immediately. Lily was not vicious or rude by nature. Sure enough, he saw something new in her eyes, a slight darkening around the pupils and the edges of her irises.

He rose to his feet and studied her face.

"Don't tell me you expected me to fall for such a trick," he retorted sharply.

A heavy sigh obstructed Lily's perfect lips.

"What is life, but one big trap?"


End file.
